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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29192073">We Were Patriots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllGrey/pseuds/AllGrey'>AllGrey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), Middle-earth: Shadow of War (Video Games), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Legacies, Set between games, Unrequited Crush, feel like all those uruks are given less in general and they deserve more, if it helps the character deaths are not Talion. idk if that makes you feel better, im hoping to write more set with the orcs we got on my playthru, is touched on, like really right in the middle there, okay so this is mostly orc focused, spoilers for all the first game and the beginning of the second in case you need to know, touched on a bit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:47:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29192073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllGrey/pseuds/AllGrey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Talons are dead, the Black Hand is dead. The Bright Lord needs to make a ring, and he can't do that without drawing some attention to himself. So how did he keep Sauron away from the Mountain while he was smithing a ring?<br/>He still had a few remaining uruks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
 Prak Taskmaster watched The Bright Lord carefully as they marched across Gorgoroth. He was marching ahead of his orcs, not too far from Prak, in case something went wrong, but looking not looking back. He was entirely focused on the volcano ahead. His Lord was… odd at times. He would mutter to himself regularly, voice changing between pitches. He would look off into a fire, at night, singing under his breath.
</p><p>
 Prak had even seen him flip around, mid-conversation with an orc, to shout at the air. If he was an uruk, he probably would be named something like “the Mutterer” or “the Mad”. But he was no uruk, and he was much too powerful for a simple name like that. Prak had seen him, once, with his throat torn out, body beginning to stiffen. The orcs had burned him, following his orders if he died. And Prak Taskmaster continued to give out tasks as normal.
</p><p>
 The Bright Lord had returned one week lanter, full and hale (and not even a single scar or deformity to mark the experience), and with orders to corner another uruk for questioning. Prak followed his orders dutifully, as always. It was his job, and he was right proud of it.
</p><p>
  He followed his Lord’s orders, even if those orders might mean his death. He was no weakling, so he would last. And his Lord had more orders to give, always, so he had to make it back. Could hardly leave it to some of these other fools.
</p><p>
Ghash, one of his men, shifted their shield for a moment before saying “So...uh… we’re marching to Mount Doom, huh?”
</p><p>
 Throk, the uruk marching next to them, elbowed them and hissed “Shut up!”
</p><p>
Prak Taskmaster sensed an issue brewing, so he turned his head towards them and said, “Yeah, we are. What’s it to you?”
</p><p>
Ghash looked towards him, fear in their eyes, “Well… It’s awfully close to Barad-Dur.”
</p><p>
Throk rolled his eyes, and pointedly looked away from Ghash.

</p><p>
 “Right.” said Prak, shortly.
</p><p>
“Well… that’s where the Dark Lord is.” Ghash said, as if that may be new information to Prak.
</p><p>
“It is. So?” Prak said, giving them another out.
</p><p>
“Well…” Ghash said, almost trailing off, before rallying and pushing forward. “There’s not enough orcs to fight him! Lots of us died fighting the Talons, and-”
</p><p>
“And what?” Prak barked, snapping his eyes to the warchiefs marching behind him and his men before glaring holes at Ghash.
</p><p>
“W-well…” said Ghash, almost shrinking back into their armor.
</p><p>
“We’re gonna walk The Bright Lord up to that mountain, we’re gonna stay there until he does what needs to be done, and that’s it! If the Dark Lord himself comes up to you while we hold that line, you stab him with your spear, and you spit in his eye!” Prak thundered, turning full around to face his group (and stopping up the march, he’d later admit with annoyance), and stomping straight up to Ghash.
</p><p>
“We’re no cowards! We’re the Bright Lord’s army! Our job is to do what the Bright Lord says! Our job-” He pushed a finger into Ghash’s breastplate, shoving them slightly. “Is to kill his enemies and protect him. If you’re gonna be gutless, turn around and march yourself all the way back to Nurnen! See how long you last!” 
</p><p>
Ghash was standing there, frozen, and the rest of the march broke into howls and jeers. They started to tuck their head into their armor a little, shrinking like a turtle. Prak’s temper flared again, but he held it tight under a glare, as the others all joined in in the shaming. Hopefully this would keep Ghash in line. If they didn’t have the strength, they’d break the line, and they put everyone at risk. Including the Bright Lord.

</p><p>
“Prak.” Said a voice behind him, and he turned to his Lord. “We have no time for this.”
</p><p>
The Bright Lord was tense after his fight with the Black Hand, but looked determined. Prak could see a strain in him. Stopping the line must have caused it. 
</p><p>
“Sorry, my Lord. We will move forward, no more interruptions.” Prak drew himself up, forcibly stopping himself from throwing a look in Ghash’s direction.
</p><p>
Ghash didn’t need it anyway, responding quickly with, “Y-yes! Yes! Let’s march!”
</p><p>
A slight cheer started up, drowned out by more mocking in Ghash’s direction.
</p><p>
The Bright Lord nodded, and turned to continue the march. 
</p><p>
Prak began marching, and heard the heavy footfall of the detachment behind him. They were well on their way now. Long streams of lava flowed in every direction, and some of the fumes clogged the air. Most uruk were a little resistant to it, but it didn’t make the march comfortable.
</p><p>
He knew his men would be wheezing as they held the line, and those that were weaker to heat would be slower. Mount Doom was no picnic to patrol, let alone fight a battle on. Prak had twenty men under his command alone. The two other warchiefs that marched behind his men each had around the same. And Prak didn’t trust that to get them through. Latbag the Raven had a group, and Ishga the Poet. They had been risen to warchiefs after the Talons killed most of the old ones off.
</p><p>
Latbag was… fine. A little odd. They wore cowl and cape covered in feathers. It even had a little beak at the end of it, covering their nose. You could barely see any of them under the swath of feathers. And they were always glaring at him for some reason. Made his hair stand on end. They seemed... a fine warrior. But a fine warrior isn’t a fine warchief. They’d not been tested that way.  
</p><p>
 Ishga… well, Ishga the Poet was more interested in his little stories than in fighting. He wasn’t scrawny per se, but you could tell those arms had never been relied on in a fight. His pale skin made it look like he’d hardly worked in the sun, despite being from Nurnen. As Prak watched, he seemed to be writing little notes on some scrap of paper. He was muttering something. Prak almost questioned why his Lord chose him as a warchief, but he was sure his Lord had the right of it. Somehow. Even if they were all marching to the thick of things, very clearly.
</p><p>
If you looked in the direction of Barad-Dur, you could make out a blot, moving across the dark earth. It was most likely some of Sauron’s men. They had dealt them a blow, to be sure, by taking out the Talons, but the Dark Lord had his hands on the vats, or at least more uruk who ran the vats. And he had many centuries more to make his men fall in line. His Lord is only in the beginning of his reign.
</p><p>
And it would be a long one, Prak would make sure of that. As long as he could keep a handful of men holding the line long enough for his Lord to finish his business in the mountain, and get out. And even then, his Lord had more than enough skill of his own to recover if all else failed. He is a bodyguard to a man who won’t die after all.
</p><p>
Prak set his jaw and marched, following his Lord as closely as possible.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
 “I need you all to block off as many entrances to the Mountain proper as you can.” The Bright Lord said, to all his men. He turned his head to the air for a moment, listening to nothing as he often did, and then turned back. “Or, I suppose, put as many bodies between the one entrance and the enemy as you can manage. Prak, I want your group closest to me.”
</p>
<p>
 Latbag looked over to Prak Taskmaster, and watched his proud nod. He was a tough uruk, sure, but what had he done to gain the love and attention of the Bright Lord was beyond Latbag. He was a loud dullard. Stomped everywhere with his stupid shield and his stupid group of buddies. 
</p>
<p>
  The Bright Lord was much more subtle than that. All the graceful and silent movement of a bird, and murderous as a graug. The idea that he would be drawn more to Prak than to 
  <em>
   Latbag
  </em>, someone much more in tune with his line of fighting-
</p>
<p>
  “Latbag, order your men to hold the line as you will. I trust that if you have something to report about the battle you will fall back to me.” The Bright Lord said, and then shook his head at something.
</p>
<p>
Latbag preened under the praise. “Yes, my lord.”
</p>
<p>
 One or two of the uruks newly under their command snickered, but they ignored them. Half of them wouldn’t last the battle anyway. When all this was over, they would have more loyal, tested orcs. Or plenty of dead untested ones. Either worked for them. They would not have any weaklings under their command, making them look foolish, unlike Prak.
</p>
<p>
 The Bright Lord began up the long staircase to the interior of the mountain, and Latbag spared a glance to watch him as he leaped quietly and surely up the staircase.
</p>
<p>
 Then they turned, looking out over the volcanic waste, towards the Dark Lord’s army. They were not far away now, but it looked as if their mass had slowed them down somewhat. Too many men to march there to have beaten them to the mountain.
</p>
<p>
  Latbag smirked, pleased. They had beat the Dark Lord there, and they’d surely beat him at holding the mountain. The Bright Lord was more powerful than the Dark. They would win.
</p>
<p>
  Ishga the Poet looked around aimlessly before turning towards Latbag and Prak. “What am I supposed to do?”
</p>
<p>
  “Aren’t you a damn warchief?” Prak asked, glaring. “Make your own mind up.”
</p>
<p>
  Ishga blanched, and turned around towards his men. Latbag didn’t rate his survival very high.
</p>
<p>
  “Maybe we should mix our forces?” Latbag asked.
</p>
<p>
 Ishga jumped, as if he hadn’t expected Latbag to still be there. “O-oh! Yes, I think that would be a very good idea."
</p>
<p>
  He continued looking around, then drew over a smaller orc from his ranks. They seemed scrawny to Latbag.
</p>
<p>
 “Look, Skak. I need you to take this,” Ishga took his leather pack off his shoulders and handed it over to the smaller orc.
</p>
<p>
 “Wh-what? Isn’t this… your writings?” Skak said.
</p>
<p>
 “Yes. I need you to take this, and go back to Nurnen.” Ishga said, plopping a hand onto Skak’s shoulder.
</p>
<p>
 Latbag balked. “What? You can’t send someone back. We need every uruk we can get-”
</p>
<p>
 Ishga turned, sticking out his chest. “I’m a warchief, right? I get to order my men how I wish.”
</p>
<p>
 Latbag rolled their eyes, but had no retort. “What’s even the point?”
</p>
<p>
 Skak looked between the two warchiefs, looking confused.
</p>
<p>
  “I told you to go, Skak. You won’t achieve what you’re looking for here, and I don’t want my poetry falling into the hands of those 
  <em>
    shrakhs
  </em>.” Ishga said firmly. “Go!”
</p>
<p>
  Skak swallowed and nodded, pushing between some of the beefier uruks and running off.
</p>
<p>
 Latbag watched them run off. “So how’s that runt going to make it back to Nurnen on their own?”
</p>
<p>
 “He’s got drive. He’ll make it.” Ishga said, looking down and quivering for a moment.
</p>
<p>
 “Ha, you’re acting like you won’t!” Latbag said.
</p>
<p>
 “You’re acting like any of us will.” He said darkly, looking back up to the Dark Lord’s army.
</p>
<p>
 Latbag bristled in offense. “I don’t know well cowards will fair, but I know I will live to see the Bright Lord march out of that mountain.”
</p>
<p>
 Ishga ignored them.
</p>
<p>
 They scowled, and marched over to get the attention of their uruks. “Right, we need a shield wall at the front, and swords behind them. Everyone get ready.”
</p>
<p>
Their men started milling, and they heard Ishga organizing his uruks mixed in with theirs. They almost regretted opening the offer to such a cowardly little rat, but in the end, more bodies in one space would make it easier for them to disappear and do what they did best.
</p>
<p>
 There was a faint
  <em>
  clinging
  </em> noise in the distance, from inside the mountain. They wondered what the Bright Lord was doing in there. Ishga gasped.
</p>
<p>
 “What, coward?” Latbag said more than asked.
</p>
<p>
 “I think- well, I hope the Bright Lord knows what he’s doing.” Ishga said, looking at the mountain with more fear than he’d been looking at the Dark Lord’s forces.
</p>
<p>
 Latbag scoffed. “He knows more than you, coward.”
</p>
<p>
 They turned away and vowed to ignore the other warchief as much as possible during this battle. If they were lucky he’d die and they’d never have to think about him again.
</p>
<p>
 Horns sounded out across the wastes. The Dark Lord’s forces were settling into the fight. Latbag smiled, and pulled their knives from their scabbards.
</p>
<p>
 Now they would prove themselves.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>        The uruk have had many homes across the world</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>They’ve been there long before the ages had truly unfurled</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>In Mordor there’s many places to see</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>From fiery mountains, to a great sea</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>But the place that draws me, time after time</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Is one I can hardly put into rhyme.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You see, Mordor has plenty o’ folks who know squat</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ishga growled, furrowing his brow. There was just one line left, but all the marching had made it hard to quite get. And now his pack and his poetry was far away. He wanted to finish the poem. But with this- well, mess, it didn’t look good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Latbag ordered their armies around, and Ishga mostly told his to join in with theirs. It was a generous offer on Latbag’s part, so long as they didn’t intend to steal the glory from what his group may do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They probably did, now that he thought of it. They were a sneaky sort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there was hardly time to worry about it, as the army of the Dark Lord marched right up the hillside and settled barely a stone’s throw away from theirs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two armies faced each other, as much as they could. A fight on the side of a mountain meant that the Bright Lord had the advantage of higher ground, but Ishga didn’t know how much that would benefit them at this point. The Dark Lord had come out with a solid force. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made sense. The Bright Lord had only been recruiting for a year. The Dark Lord had been taking uruks into his forces much longer than that. But it was the first time Ishga had really sat down and confronted how fucked he was for joining the Bright Lord to begin with. There was not one way this would turn out well for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if The Bright Lord was doing what Ishga thought he was, building </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the fucking mountain, who even know the depths of fucked they would all reach. This could fuck up all of orc-kind. This was a nightmare and a half. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But what was he to do? The Bright Lord had given him a place. Taken care of him. Uruk culture generally didn’t value people like him, with interests like his. The Bright Lord had given him the space to write safely. Even if it seemed like his Lord didn’t quite understand either, he hadn’t reacted with laughter or violence. He’d mostly just shrugged. But that was enough for Ishga. Having space to recite and study was a balm against the harshness of life in Mordor. Ishga would forever be grateful to that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if he died here today, his work would live on with Skak. The Bright Lord would continue to give a place to uruks like him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So long as the Bright Lord didn’t fall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ishga took a deep breath and pushed aside all his concerns and regrets. The fight was ahead of him now. The war parties were in that eerily quiet phase, before the true battle started, where it felt like they could go on staring at each other forever as long as no one made a sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up the hill, Prak simply yelled, “Fight!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the war broke loose. Uruk bodies smashed into each other, screaming erupted, black blood spilled over the black rocks of Mount Doom, and Ishga the Poet brought down an axe into another uruks head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That uruk crumpled, and Ishga whirled again, slicing at the nearest enemy. He began a count. 2. 3. 4. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then a smaller sized uruk came from his left. They leaped up at him, gnashing their teeth and clearly going for his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dropped his axes and grabbed the uruk, mid-air, swinging them around. He didn’t have much strength in his arms, he thought, but he had enough to throw this little </span>
  <em>
    <span>shrakh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And he did, lobbing them into an uruk who stood over one of the Bright Lord’s men, ready to bring down a hammer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sudden force of the other orc’s body sent him wobbling to the side, and the uruk on the ground took a volcanic rock up and began smashing it into the hammer-wielder’s head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Was that Narug? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ishga thought, breaking his gaze away for a moment to look down for his axes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then suddenly, searing pain erupted from his mid-back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to twist around, see who his attacker was, but it was suddenly very hard to see. He couldn’t feel his legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ishga was dying. He was dying, and he hadn’t even finished his poem. A scream ripped from his throat, a feral scream. What he could see was stained red, and he fumbled around on the ground as he fell to his knees, cutting his fingers on his own axe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifted the axe, and with all the force remaining in him (and, quite honestly, more force than he’d ever mustered in his life), he whipped the axe up and into whoever had stabbed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard a scream, he hoped from them, and then nothing more. He collapsed fully on the rock, the rock itself cutting him as he slid slightly down the hill. He did not feel it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did not feel anything. Things were becoming cloudy. The noise of the battle became faint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began to drift, his last clear thought: </span>
  <em>
    <span>But Nurnen herself, outshines the whole lot.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The fight was everywhere. Metal and bone clashed, uruks screamed in pain and in victory, and Latbag moved like a shadow on the battlefield.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed close to the bigger fighters, ducking under arms and shields and stabbing uruks in the lungs or heart. They tried to keep behind their own uruks, just because the distraction was helpful to get the killing blow. Some of the soldiers jumped in surprise as their enemy fell, and they saw nothing but feathers fluttering by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They also tried to avoid areas with archers. They tended to have better eyes, and Latbag had no interest in becoming a pincushion. So they kept to the front lines, flitting from ally to ally, dodging behind some soldiers to let them take the hit, on occasion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By their count they had about 15 kills by the time they heard Prak up the hill screaming “Back! Fall back!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They whipped their head up to look around and saw they were down most of their men. They had had at least 60, and they couldn’t have more than 20 now. The Dark Lord’s army looked endless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Latbag followed the line of the warriors back, throwing a poisoned dart one uruk’s way as they went. If they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fall back, they would take as many players off the field as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shield line! Now!” Prak thundered right as Latbag leaped over a boulder to land next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prak picked a massive tower shield off a dead uruk and shoved it into the hands of a quivering soldier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go! Hold the line!” He shouted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The orc swallowed, and some of the fear disappeared from her face as she joined the little defence on the landing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were pushed up, almost to the entrance to the Mountain. The heat poured from the door, but they held firm as Sauron’s men fell on them. No new deaths, yet. Latbag looked around for Ishga and saw nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bah, the fool never would have made it anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is the plan, Taskmaster?” Latbag asked, trying to keep the jeer from their tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The plan is to wait for the Bright Lord.” He said back, gritting his teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I go tell him we’re low on men?” Latbag asked, trying to lean to see through the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t bother him!” Prak said, waving his hand in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The uruk that Prak had ordered into the line slashed down two enemies at once with her spear. Orcs around her cheered, but it looked like she couldn’t pull free.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Latbag ran over to her, and rolled under her shield to stab an incoming orc, and kick the corpses off the spear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shouted in surprise, but when she recognized the blur of feathers she threw her shield in front of them, deflecting an axe that had been flying their way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Close one. Manage your spear, weakling!” They said, rolling back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shield bearer fell on their far left, and three goblins climbed over him. An orc armed with nothing but a bloody rock slammed it into one of their heads with a battle cry, killing the goblin instantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prak pushed forward and speared through a goblin, kicking the other one down the staircase. It tumbled with a few screams and then a solid crack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take his place!” He shouted towards another uruk behind the line.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They scrambled to fill the gap, and it was clear to Latbag that it would not hold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to tell the Bright Lord to retreat!” Latbag said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he’s coming this way.” said Prak looking beyond Latbag’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Latbag turned around to see their Lord running out of the door and towards them. He looked almost frantic with fear. They didn’t know that they’d ever seen him frightened before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My lord!” They cried, unsure what else to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our defenses have fallen.” The Bright Lord said, looking at their meager survivors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not much else to do now, my lord. Should we fall back?” Prak asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Fall back as far as you can. Go to ground. I must-” The Bright Lord was cut off as two of their shield lines fell, arrows through their neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Latbag turned to see what had gone on, only to see the uruk who shot the line riding a caragor straight over their corpses. His bow was pointed at their Lord.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They jumped, throwing themselves at the enemy, knives free.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The uruk’s arrow pierced their chest, knocking them back a little, but their own momentum was enough for them to tackle the uruk off the beast and to the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stabbed. And stabbed. Until the uruk’s face was mush, and once it was, they attempted to stab again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their arms were too weak, suddenly, and they felt the world swerve. They toppled over, face first onto the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was fighting behind them, and then hands grabbed them and turned them over. Latbag thought of fighting it, but was glad when they didn’t. It was their Lord. The Bright Lord’s soft face looked down at them with a frown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am too late.” He said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They tried to praise him, but all that came out was a cough, their blood splattering their own lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My Lord, we have to pull back now!” Prak yelled, bashing his shield into the caragor’s face and sending it staggering back. The uruk with the rock ran up to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Latbag stopped paying attention. It was easier to pay attention to their Lord, and his kind gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. I am sorry.” He said to them, lowering them to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What for?</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they wanted to say. He had given them what they wanted the most in that moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They followed his form with their eyes, as far as they could, as he ran off down the mountainside, a small trail of uruk behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had saved their Lord. That was all that mattered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They closed their eyes.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prak’s feet thundered on the ground. He had 6 remaining men. He followed the Bright Lord as much as possible, the man’s lighter armor making him faster than Prak could ever be.</p><p>But they had to break out. Something was different about his Lord. Something was missing. And also added. The ring on the man’s finger clearly gleamed with power. He may be just some dumb uruk, all shield and spear, but it was plain as day the Bright Lord had cooked up something bigger than him inside that mountain.</p><p>But he had faith. Even if it looked a little messy right now, the Bright Lord did nothing but clean up messes.</p><p>A spear whizzed by Prak’s head and buried itself into the ground in front of him.</p><p>He kept running.</p><p>They had made it down the mountain, and were now running across the hard rock towards the nearest shelter. It was possible there were more enemy uruk inside the ruins they headed towards, but that was still a better choice than the open plains.</p><p>One of the orcs behind Prak wheezed out, “How long are we gonna be running?”</p><p>Prak wasn’t sure of the answer to that. The Bright Lord had said “go to ground” before Latbag died. That didn’t sound like they’d have time to stop running any time soon.</p><p>The Bright Lord himself turned around and yelled back, “Get into the ruin!”</p><p>So Prak put his head down and thundered on towards the building.</p><p>When they had all tucked away inside the crumbling ruin, at least for the moment, the Bright Lord turned to them. “Go. You all need to run as well as you can. Hide if you must.”</p><p>“Hide? What for?” An orc asked. Igak, Prak thought.</p><p>“If you wish to survive. I am leaving.” </p><p>“Do you need us to wait for you?” Prak asked, standing tall.</p><p>“If you did, you would not be alive when I returned. They have turned their eyes on us, and our forces are not strong enough. So, go.” The Bright Lord seemed preoccupied still, with something else far from here.</p><p>“But- you’re the Bright Lord! Aren’t we gonna fight back against Sauron?” Igak said, aghast.</p><p>The Bright Lord began climbing the crumbling walls around them, heading towards a hole in the roof. “Perhaps.”</p><p>Igak looked stunned, and Prak stood there looking at his small group of uruks. In the distance he could hear Sauron’s host moving towards them.</p><p>He wasn’t worried that the Bright Lord would get out unscathed. The man had a way of disappearing. You could be guarding the man, and have no damn clue where he was. He would escape those idiots with no problems.</p><p>But Prak and his six men? They would struggle. There was Igak, who seemed more preoccupied with the Bright Lord’s leaving than staying alive. Shag, a shield holder. Shugorg had been part of Prak’s original guard detail. He was jumpier than a… something that jumped a lot, and it was showing. But he was also a damn good digger… Agbag was the last one he knew, and they had an iron foot. They had managed to keep up in the fight, but more long distance running would be their death.</p><p>He turned to the ones he didn’t quite know. “What’re your names?”</p><p>The orc who he had shoved a shield at piped up first. “Hoshgrish.”</p><p>The orc who’d killed the caragor (with only a fucking rock!) said next, “Narug.”</p><p>“No titles, yet?” Prak said, smirking. “I think you’ve earned some today for sure. Hoshgrish the Gatekeeper!”</p><p>Hoshgrish flushed and straightened her shoulders. “Now I like the sound of that.”</p><p>“What would I get?” Narug asked.</p><p>Prak paused. “Narug… the Rock?”</p><p>“Pff, that’s awful. I’ll need better than that.” He retorted.</p><p>Prak shook his head. “Right, not the point. You uruks are going to need some way out…”</p><p>He stood up and began taking a look around their little ruin, hearing the horde of Sauron get ever-closer.</p><p>Agbag was the only one who paused and asked. “All of us? But what about you?”</p><p>Prak ignored them. He noticed a hole in the back of the ruin. Not big enough for most orcs to get through without squeezing, but a goblin could manage it. </p><p>Prak turned to Shugorg. “Oi, you, start digging back here. Quick as you can.”</p><p>Shugorg bustled over, excited at the prospect of digging and looked at the hole. “Ohhh yeah. This is good. This is good. I can do something with this. If I had to guess there’s a bit of a network in there.”</p><p>“Enough for everyone to hide?” Prak asked.</p><p>Shugorg nodded vigorously and began working.</p><p>Prak nodded and turned towards the others. “Right. Now all of you are gonna crawl in there and be as quiet as can be. You’re gonna push on out of here when it’s quieted down, and you’re gonna hide as well as you can from folk who’ll kill ya for being the Bright Lord’s. Is that clear?”</p><p>“Clear enough.” Hoshgrish said, grimly.</p><p>“Oi, and what about you, boss?” Agbag said, not leaving well enough alone.</p><p>“Well I’ve got a fucking plan, clearly.”</p><p>“And what is it?” Agbag retorted.</p><p>“I’m gonna march out there and do what I can to lead them away from all o’ you.”</p><p>“But-” Agbag started.</p><p>“No. Bright Lord needs an army, he can’t have his soldiers die here. Do what I fucking say.” Prak said, puffing his chest out.</p><p>He’d knock sense into them if that’s what they needed.</p><p>“Big enough we can start getting in!” Shugorg shouted over her shoulder.</p><p>Agbag looked over to her and back to Prak. </p><p>“You better survive, boss.” Their face was brimming with some kind of emotion.</p><p>“Of course.” Prak said, and waited until all his uruks were up against the wall, getting ready to climb into the little cave system.</p><p>Then he cracked his neck, and ran out into the open screaming.</p><p>Sauron’s uruks had been relatively split up, searching around cliffs and what have you, until they heard that.</p><p>Out ran Prak Taskmaster, the shining perfect example of a distraction, and they ate it up.</p><p>He ran straight into a group, and killed all 5 before the second group began firing all they had at him. He took an arrow in the shoulder, but shrugged it off.</p><p>He oughta do more damage than that.</p><p>So he marched, shield out, towards the next set.</p><p>He mowed down 3 groups before the rest, a group of 20, actually came together enough to surround him properly. Fuckin’ amateurs.</p><p>He ducked and stabbed out and dodged as well as he could, a big ol' lump like he was, and the only target around. He took plenty of hits, but gave out plenty of his own.</p><p>He managed to get three of the surrounding uruks down and- well.</p><p>He held off as much as he could, but eventually one of 'em struck him in the head, and all was dark.</p><p>At least his uruks and his Lord were safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading guys!! I hope you enjoyed! I hope to be back and writing more for some orcs once I have the time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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